Clemenceau High
by table42
Summary: Because school's like that. This revolves around Fatty's school life, and is set in the 'Mystery of Revenge' universe. Features the whole made up Trotteville gang! Not remotely Blytonish. Will be updated:2009 Late-ish Promise! Chapters almost ready!
1. Teaser

_Here it is at last! The beginning of Clemenceau High. We would like to apologise for the disjointed flow of this teaser, though. We just had too many ideas and couldn't fit them all in nicely. As a result, we probably botched the whole thing up, and now it's not doing a wonderful job of drawing people in to read the other chapters..._

_Oh well. May it brighten up your day, anyway._

_This chapter is dedicated to all our loyal reviewers so far. Thank you! We appreciate it!_

_Well, enough of our ramblings already. On with the show!_

_PS. Blame the insanity on the one and only Veggie. Slaughter her, not us. _

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Walking on a seemingly innocent and blissful route to the train station (to meet with his brothers), Zac was halted abruptly in his tracks by the most girlish, high-pitched, bimbotic squeal he had ever heard behind him. His precious, fragile imaginary world filled with wide, open fields full of pretty pink flowers and no stalking secret admirers shattered as quickly as it had come, and he allowed himself an ironic moment of inside level-headed calmness, where he tried to squeeze in a last-ditch attempt of mind and soul guru yoga.

(Guaranteed to calm the traumatised, it had stated on the instruction manual for dummies... but one could hardly HIM a dummy. Not to mention, this was anything but traumatising... (Do you detect the sarcasm here?) Zac nearly did a 'Number 2' (AKA wet pants) in fright, for goodness sake! The guarantee had better work…which it of course did not. Well, that was Plan A gone.)

Slowly, with a 1000-pound sinking feeling settling at the bottom of his stomach, the boy hunched his shoulders and tensed up like a fat slug ready to squiggle away for dear life. Grasping his school trunk and guitar case with a tighter-than-death grip, he prepared to make a mad dash aka Really Quick Getaway for the incoming train when...

"Oh Zackky, darling! I have not seen you in days!" Something squealed somewhere in the distance, sounding very much like a live pig being roasted to death. "Did you know how much I missed you? Every second was like a year to me…Where did you disappear to? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me!" Zac grimaced and turned slowly to face the speaker.

She was a rosy-faced girl with huge, pouting puffer-fish-like lips. The girl was currently frowning, and her two ponytails swung out on either side of her as she jogged briskly towards the very undignified-looking Head-Boy.

From a bystander's point of view, it well appeared to be that she was running in a 'slow-motion', in kind of scene, the kind where two lovers are reunited or something equally dramatic. Sadly for Zac, he was so horrified that his worst nightmare had come true that his brain (normally quick-witted with an IQ of over 10000000000) was reeling very slowly as it processed this sadistic information at the rate of a girl's one second equals one year kind of equation.

"NOOOO…" the traumatised teenager slowly wailed, dreading the outcome of this meeting. The very fact that she was slowly… frisking… to… his… side… flinging… her arms… wide open… to lock him in a very dramatic sort of romantic embrace suddenly made him want to faint or commit suicide on the spot. Hmm… Hang or drown? Maybe poison?

Nah, Zac valued his life more than that. What sort of doctor would he make if he committed suicide because of a girl? He would drop from hero to zero at once! The Head-Boy mentally weighed his options quickly, wondering if he should spin on his heel and disappear into the murky mysterious yet female-free caves of Tibet forever, or the thick black woods of Batavia where no one spoke anything but the cryptic code Ж-Љ-д otherwise known as 'OOGIE OGGIE'. Going into recluse might not be as bad as it seemed; being a hermit sounded fine at such a desperate time too.

Suddenly Zackky-Poo had a GRAND idea! Just as his adoring fan was about to pull him in for the kiss of death, he ducked down suddenly and announced, "Oopsie! Shoelace got undone! Wouldn't want to trip over that now, would we?" and pretended to do up his laces ever-so-neatly.

In the safety of the train station, Frank and Fred grinned like Jojo the clown AKA blithering idiots as they boarded, nudging each other, faking girly giggles, throwing fat exaggerated kisses and sending suggestive winks to their properly miserable brother. Zac glanced longingly at the train as it screeched merrily off. Joy upon joys. Now he was alone in dealing with his love-stuck, and we mean struck, not-so-secret admirer.

"Did you see Zac's face as we left?" laughed Frank, plopping gaily down onto an empty seat. His siblings happily squeezed in on either side of him. Even Frans was somewhat amused by his brother's Romeo-Juliet predicament. Or should it be a Jack/Rose moment in Titanic?

"And did you notice…" Frank was interrupted by a dreamy sigh, the kind where a hot male hero saves a silly screaming female (usually the damsel in distress, with the amazing capability of getting into trouble ALL the time), and all the girls watching the movie go 'sigh…'.

Turning to his right at the sound, he froze as he saw a love-struck girl gazing all-too-adoringly at him, fluttering her lashes, then blushing like a raccoon with a bad sunburn (AN: HEH HEH HEH…) when she saw him looking at her. NOW it was Frank's turn to groan like a proper hero in distress…


	2. The new teacher

_Ok, Chapter one is finally out. We apologise if it does not seem to make any sense. Thank you reviewer(s)!_

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**Chapter 1: The new teacher**

There was a new math teacher at Clemenceau High, and she was quite a sight. The teacher was short and dumpy, and had frizzy hair that stuck out at odd places that looked like a comb had not been near it in months. Its similarities to a mouse's nest was striking.

The teacher had small, cunning eyes and a wide mouth smeared with lipstick that exceeded far beyond the natural line of her lips. Her overall look was quite sinister. The formidable formation of formidable chins was also formidable: five stacked on top of each other, wobbling for all they were worth.

The teacher was plump, and wore tight blouses that tried, but failed to keep the fat properly strapped in. Her waist had many thick layers of 'spare tyres', and bulged dangerously out over her skirt. The flowery skirt was worse- it had patterns that made one think of your great grand aunt's brown-and-purple interior décor with matching polka-dotted bed sheets and curtains.

The skirt was short, showing off stubby legs and flabby thighs to an obscene extent. Her shoes were just as bad, for they were pointed, with wiry black fur and the head of a stuffed mouse. Her feet could be seen bulging out of the openings, and the miserable stockings looked like they were about to burst. It was a truly grotesque sight. From time to time, the teacher wore stilettos, but it did nothing to help her height.

The first time the triplets saw her, Franklin had just finished running and had stopped to drink some water from a bottle. The Trottevilles had rounded a corner when the teacher had stepped out of her quarters. Unfortunately for Frank, he had had his mouth full when he caught sight of his math teacher.

Frank's eyes widened in shock and water immediately spurted out of his mouth five feet into the air and onto his shirt. Frederick (he's not called Fatty at school, and can't be tubby and sausage all the time,) exploded at the same time. Francis, gathering all the dignity he could muster, dragged his two brothers away and out of sight by their collars.

"She looks like a constipated cheesecake!" Frank gasped, when he was finally able to talk.

"Yeah," agreed Fred heartily, "A real walking fishcake!"

Frans was silent. Although he did not look it, he was laughing inside. His fierce expression melted, as he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially: "She reminds me of cheek-pinching aunties." Everyone burst into laughter again.

"This is the list of all unwanted teacher-like fashions. Bright floral patterns…" began Frank.

"Check!" Fred echoed, drawing an imaginary tick in the air.

"Perfume overdose…"

"Check!"

"Terrible colour of horribly painted nails…"

"Check!"

"Varicose legs…"

"Check!"

"Carrot hair…"

"Check!"

"Sandwich shoes…"

"Check!"

"Swiss cheese stockings…"

"CHECK!!!"


	3. The first lesson

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_Hello, hello. It's us again; the ever-annoying table42!!! Righto, here's the second installment for 'Clemenceau High'. Thank you for reading! Enjoy, and don't forget to review. School pranks/ Annoying teacher behaviours/ Funny classroom moments etc. are especially welcome! _

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**Chapter 2: The first lesson**

The first lesson was an utter disaster. Frank knew it from the moment the teacher opened her overly smeared lipsticked mouth.

"Hello," she squeaked pathetically. "My name is Dorothy Tanya Primrose, and I will be your math teacher for the year." She tugged at her strained blouse, and gave a sickly smile that would make any cat puke. The triplets gagged, including Frans, causing the class and Miss Primrose to stare at them. Frans quickly straightened up and immediately looked very serious. He always did, anyway, so the expression came naturally.

"Sorry Miss Primrose. Triplet telepathy you know, one of us is not feeling very well," he explained. "And boy do I have no idea who he is…" Frank muttered beside his brother. The Primrose gave them the same much-too-sweet smile and toddled over to their table.

"Triplets, is that right? How do I tell you apart?" she asked. The Trottevilles could smell a strong overpowering odour radiating like ultrasound waves from the teacher. The 'scent' could not have been considered perfume at all. What could it be? Plant fertiliser? Nah, it had to be something much worse. Frank thought that he would have to teach his teacher the art of wearing perfume in the future.

Fred answered Miss Primrose. "There's not much difference between us, Ms Primrose, but you'll find out soon enough. We are totally different in a particular sense that is really too troublesome to explain. Besides, it would take up some of your class time! I'm sure you would not want that to happen. You see, the differences are so detailed that it takes at least…" before Fred could finish, the impatient teacher cut him off.

"Yes, I can see what you mean," she said, letting out an unsure laugh, or rather, a turkey's gobble (imagine that). The woman slowly waddled deliberately back to her table and Fred let out his breath in a rush. He was all out of breath and ready to faint. Frank started to snigger but was interrupted by another high-pitched squeak before he could enjoy a good laugh.

"Class, please take out your textbooks!" the teacher trumpeted a _LEETLE _too loudly. The whole class winced and grimaced, almost deafened by her screeching.

Frank thought he heard the classroom windows "-ping!" into little pieces. Fred suspected his eardrum had burst. Frans idly wondered if that pitch was 64 hertz, exactly.

The pupils quickly flipped through their books to the correct page, hoping the Primrose would shut it. Tough luck though, goosy gander ranted on for about five minutes before class actually began properly.

Miss Primrose took out a chipped piece of chalk from an unsightly pink and green polka dotted pencil case. Reaching up, she stretched her flabby hand out with all her might to the top of the board, and strained to write a few words in illegible scrawls.

Her short, crinkled blouse promptly sprung up at the action, exposing her unsightly bulgy lump of spare fat tyres: evidence of not exercising. The class gasped and tittered like girls.

Ms Primrose's face turned the colour of a sunburnt radish, and she hurriedly yanked her blouse down with her left hand. A loud, ripping sound was heard. The blouse, a size smaller than the teacher's natural bulk, had split at the seams!

Silly Ms Primrose had obviously thought squeezing into a smaller size might make her look slimmer. She was gravely wrong. A few of the daring boys exploded with laughter, and Fred saw his teacher turn a familiar shade of purple.

"I knew something like that would happen," the boy boasted.

"I wouldn't be surprised if her skirt splits next," Frans chimed in, grinning like a mad hatter. The teacher had not given him a good impression, and he was ready to join in his brothers' silly antics.

Frank could not answer because he was currently turning blue from the effort of trying not to laugh. Tears ran down his face as he trembled all over, pounding softly on the table with his fist.

When the boy finally composed himself, he spoke to his two brothers while thinking.

"I'm going to invent some pranks and use it on turnip brains here. Man, this is going to be fun!"

"What pranks?" his two triplet brothers asked in excitement.

"You'll see, you just see," Frank replied with a sudden air of dignified suspense and mystery around him. His face radiated smugness and the knowledge of impending doom. Frans wasn't sure if this was a cause of worry or not. Fred was worried for his position as the top prankster.

"Do a ventriloquist stunt Fred," Frans pleaded. Fred grinned and looked at the teacher.

Ms Primrose had finally given up and was writing on the lower half of the board rather huffily. It was no use wasting her efforts on these rude impudent students. Suddenly, a tremendous crash was heard. Everyone turned around to the back of the class where the noise came from, expecting to see a mess of some sort.

There was no mess. Nothing had fallen. The cupboard was still standing on four legs. The third formers turned to Fred, expecting to see a cheeky face, but the boy was just as confused.

"I'm not the guilty party!" Frederick mouthed with a confused expression. Somehow, the look on his face convinced his fellow classmates that he was speaking the truth.

Who could it have been? No one else in the class could perform ventriloquism. Unless Frank had 'hidden talents' yet to be discovered…

One by one, the student body turned to Frank. The boy bit his lip. Oops!


	4. Prefects’ Installation

_-drops the chipper act-_

_We will only post the next chapter if there are suggestions. We're running out of ideas!!!_

_-goes into hysterics-_

_And no, Frans is not a ventriloquist._

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**Chapter 3: Prefects' Installation**

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The Prefects' Installation was humankind's worst natural disaster in ages. The ceremony did not go well at all. It all began with one very whiny voice…

As the school orchestra played the national anthem, everyone stood up and clapped as the new prefects marched into the hall. They all were dressed smartly in their full school uniform that was starched and pressed to a stiff flair, decked up to the nines with ties.

When the student leaders finally settled down at their allocated seats, Zachary got up and made an introductory speech. It was one of the better speeches Frank had heard, and everybody managed to stay awake. Zac had somehow managed to turn the boring topic: United we stand, Divided we fall, into a comical banter between him his listeners.

Frank pouted. Of all people, Zac _just_ had to be chosen to be Head Boy! Zac might act serious and responsible on the outside, but Frank knew better than that! It was just a facade to fool silly head-petting teachers. They worshipped Zac adoringly, and never let a chance to praise him go to waste. It was sickeningly shameful.

Zac could be really cheeky and mischievous if he wanted to. But here he was, standing in front of them all as a Head Boy, no less. What was the world coming to? 'Soon, the sky will be raining rotten eggs', Frank thought sarcastically. It just did not make any sense!

Thinking back, Frank frowned as he remembered the lecture his mother had given him when she had found out he did not approve of Zac's improper position. Hoping to rally more support, the boy leaned over to his siblings to present his case.

"Zac isn't suited to be the Head Boy at all, don't you think?" Frank hissed to his brothers. "It isn't practical! He is one of the most mischievous boys in sixth form! If he gets to be the HAMmy (High and Mighty) Head Boy, they might as well pick me to be a prefect next! It just isn't fair. At this rate, Primrose will end up being Principal. Tis Aint Right!"

After listening to Frank's laments, Fred made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat that sounded like a wild beast farting. He looked at Frank as if his brother had just announced, 'I shall not change my socks for a month', and on the other side of him, Frans made a similar face. Frank began to feel like he had crawled out of the gutter with disgusting bits of unmentionable disgusting things clinging all over him and reeking of some disgusting smell.

"You want to be a prefect?" Fred asked Frank in growing horror. _Now_ the world was really ending! What other surprises would the boy spring on him next? Oh, the horrible torture. Kill me now! Fred prayed for something, anything to end his miserable life there and then. He would rather climb Mount Everest in only a pair of underwear than listen to Frank go on.

Frank shot him an exasperated look. "No! Ugh! You don't get it do you? I'm just stating a point! What I meant was that…" Frank never got to finish as Frans cut him off.

"Zac may not be prim and proper all the time, but he knows how to control himself. He can behave well at the right time and he doesn't make a fool of himself. AND unlike you, Zac is approachable as a person. He has a high Emotional Quotient, and we all know that people who are sociable make good Heads that last."

Frank said nothing. He suddenly did not feel like arguing at the moment.

Zac soon finished his speech and led the other prefects in repeating the oath for swearing in. The oath was followed by the national pledge, and finally, the school song. Everyone rose for the school anthem and sang it with 'joy and gladness in their hearts'.

The chorus of the song was exceptionally high for a boy's school, and many went out of tune. They simply gave up singing it after a while, and listened on with interest as Ms Primrose embarrassed herself.

The Primrose, with all her so-called dignity, showed the boys of Clemenceau High that she could 'sing' it higher and better than any of them. Her voice soared high above the community like a blaring foghorn, and could have broken several records for being the most unbearable sound ever. Fred privately thought she sounded like an ancient pleated Victorian accordion all out of tune, but did not voice that thought aloud.

It seemed to Frank that only Zac and his band mates were keeping the right pitch. It was obvious, for The Head and Vice Head were singing directly in front of the mike. 'Goody for them', the boy thought dourly. At least their voices could drown out the Primrose's.

The Primrose screeched on like a faulty radio, stupidly oblivious to the chaos she had created. In fact, she went on louder than ever, blasting her horrible chords out at full pitch. She seemed to think that she was being admired for her powerful vocals! The teachers paled and students winced, while the principal continued singing way below the 'overpowering range', pretending as if nothing had happened. He was feeling very embarrassed on behalf of the Primrose.

On the other side of the hall, Frank and Fred decided that _something had to be done_. The boys sneakily bent down and undid the bolts of several chairs in front of them, which creaked ominously as they collapsed one by one, disrupting the song. The crowd sighed in relief.

Primrose's pudgy pudding face turned upside down. This was an important occasion! Who had dared to make such a noise? Why wasn't anyone paying attention to her? She stupidly thought that the crowd sighed simply because she had stopped singing. Starting the song up again at full-blast, Primrose wailed out the third verse. Frank covered his ears in agony. He was sure the people living five miles away could hear the school song by now.

Zac felt a torturous migraine coming on, and indulged in 'guilty pleasure' as he spotted his beloved brother Frank undoing more and more bolts in the background.

A prefect was soon heard sniggering at the back of the stage. Zac turned round and silenced the boy with a hard stare. The prefect, startled at being personally addressed by the Head Boy, straightened up and attempted to look serious. He failed miserably. Zac frowned. The Primrose seriously needed some counselling and music lessons, on top of her already overdue 'art of wearing perfume' lessons! Apparently, this was one case where the teacher needed more remedials than the students.


	5. Increased Workload

_Greetings! After much consultation, concentration, and conversation, we HAVE decided to include a small mystery in Clemenceau High. WHOOOTS!! -cue clapping- Unfortunately, we have no idea what sort of mystery that will be..._

_Any ideas, anyone? Or should we do a lame version of the-boy-who-misplaced-his-lunch-money-and-subsequently-found-it-in-another-pair-of-pants?_

_(Maria: Can we go now?? We have announced our presence, displayed our plans, and have notified the readers that we are alive and well. Let's scram!! -whines-_

_Clarinda: -grins sadistically- Poor Zac! Now let's add in asthma attacks, soggy sandwiches, and perhaps a sprained finger or two!)_

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**Chapter 4: Increased workload**

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"Franklin Trotteville!" cried Mrs Potts indignantly. Frank looked up, startled at the sound of her voice. Gosh, thank goodness! He was just about to fall into deep, Sleeping-Beauty-like slumber during the ever-boring Primrose's lesson. It was becoming a daily occurrence (the sleeping bit, not the Potts bit).

Mrs Potts was their form teacher, rather old, rather kind. She was also rather strict, unfortunately for Frank and Fred. However, that was a small consolation considering she was not The Primrose.

Mrs Potts had a good many pleasant wrinkles on her face and looked about forty-five. Her brown eyes were always warm and soft, though they could look rather horsy when she was stern. Frank never got tired of that look. Until now, he was still trying to imitate it, but to no avail. It was one of the very 'rare issues' of his, and he found it irritating.

He had once been caught standing in front of Mrs Potts while trying to make that face, and it had been just as embarrassing as your pants falling down while you are on stage singing the National Anthem in front of a live audience. He had twisted his face into a half frown, half goggle that looked very much like a toad that choked on a fly and had resultantly not eaten for a month. Frank had only realised that his teacher was staring at him after a whole five minutes. Now that, to Frank, was a lot.

Mrs Potts was currently standing at the class door, carrying a towering stack of at least thirty books. After a curt nod to Primrose, she staggered to Frank and set the books on his table with a satisfying bump. Frank's two brothers stared at the books, while Frank looked desperately at Mrs Potts, feigning ignorance.

"Would you like me to deliver these books to the orphanage for you, Mrs Potts? I would be delighted to. It has been such a long time since I have done a good deed…" Frank ranted on and on, trying to change the subject. He knew very well what those books were for.

Mrs Potts nodded absently, and interrupted the desperate Frank in the middle of his tirade.

"My dear Mister Trotteville, do be quiet and listen to me. These books are for you. They contain a whole year's of fifth and sixth form work, and you are not to donate them to some charity. You have agreed with your father to skip forms, have you not? Well here are the books; you will do as much as you can. You are not to listen to your teacher when he or she is teaching but work on these instead. If you manage to pass the exam, at the end of the year, you will definitely be sent to university. If you are not able to... welcome back to the life of the normal. Do I make myself clear on this point, Mr Trotteville? Mr Trotteville!"

Frank had ignored Mrs Potts halfway through her speech and was looking dejectedly through the mountain of books. There were Philosophy, Advanced French, Latin, Geography, History, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Arithmetic, Literature, Higher Art, and a fine, leather-bound book on the complete works of Shakespeare. Frank planned to use that one for lifting weights.

Suddenly, the whole gravity of his situation came crashing down on Frank. That was too much, and he groaned, pushing away the books and burying his head in his arms.

Looking around, Frank noticed everyone was staring at him in shock with their mouths hanging low. Primrose looked absolutely gobsmacked. Her eyes were stretched far apart, and her mouth looked like it was poised to catch flies the size of tennis balls. Frank grinned at her and posed, throwing in wide, film star-like kisses for good measure.

Turning back to the books (he refused to think of them as his), he flipped through one of them randomly and frowned. How was he going to finish them in a term? Mrs Potts flashed the boy a smile, almost mocking, turned on her heel, and left as suddenly as she had come.

Frank stared mournfully at the pile before him. Fred snickered.

"This is called pressure Frank, you know that word don't you? Pressure, Pressure, and more PRESSURE!" He sniggered at Frank's horrified face. Frank glowered dangerously and clenched his fist, shaking dangerously close under his brother's nose. Fred smirked and went back to his work. Frans simply sighed and shook his head.

The Primrose, curious, went over to Frank's table and bent dangerously low to see the books. Frank looked up hastily in fright upon seeing a rough, distorted shadow. The boy jumped. He had honestly thought the living, rotting egg tart aliens had arrived! The shadow was too round to be true! (Unfortunately, it was true.) Frank covered his hand with his mouth, ugh! That smell! The Primrose did not notice Frank's gesture. Her poor student spoke to her.

"Yes Ms Primrose, would you like to help me with the sixth forms? Can you even do them anyway? Let's see…" Frank bent over a sixth form math workbook and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Looking over, Fred was sure that if Alice (from wonderland) were here, she would have taken a look at Frank and mistook him at once for her beloved chopper-flashing moggy.

Frank flipped through a few pages until he came across an especially complicated sum. He then proceeded to pull out a textbook and read it in the most annoying professional voice. After about five minutes or so, he looked up and pointed to the complicated question.

"Can you solve this?" he innocently inquired. Ms Primrose glared at him. What a rude boy!

"Obviously I can solve it! Why would I be a math teacher then?" she asked impatiently. Frank shrugged.

"To show off," he mumbled. "Pompous old coot of a toad…" He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing laboriously. Soon, a most horrendous sum was created. Frank looked through it once and nodded, before addressing the pumpkin once more.

"I have no idea what form work this problem is from. But I assure that I will respect, err no… Look up to you if you can solve it."

Primrose smirked. "If you think a question set by a fourth former can be so difficult, then… then…," the teacher could not think of what more to say. She was not very bright at thinking of such things, anyway, so it made no difference on the whole.

" Franklin's not an ordinary fourth former, Ms Primrose," called Oliver Sunns from the back of the class. "He wouldn't be skipping forms otherwise. His intelligent quotient is high as high can be."

Oliver was a boy of middle height, gangly, with grey eyes and blonde hair. His skin was rather tanned, and he had a rather sharp tongue. Oliver also had a very strong and pleasant Scottish accent, which made itself clear as he spoke.

Fred turned round and grinned at him. Oliver grinned back obligingly. The teacher put on a dignified expression, and stared at the boy genius for a moment or two. She then bent over the paper, expecting the answer to come out at once from her head, but to no avail. It was much, much harder than she had thought.

Frank grinned and leaned over to his brothers. "You know, if she knew how to behave like a real school teacher, she wouldn't have bothered. It just goes to show…"

"…That she is no doubt a female clone of Goon?" answered Fred. Frank shook his head.

"It simply shows that she has amazingly broken all the negative records of teachers' already awkward behaviour! It's just so simple! Though I must agree that I wouldn't be half as surprised if she had been a Goon twice related and thrice disinherited."

The triplets chuckled as the silently watched the teacher struggle with the math problem at her table. Frank soon got bored and went on with his work. He was mildly surprised. All he had done to that question was to tweak it a little to make it seem complicated.

It was simple, really, he thought to himself as he memorised some French verbs. The only reason Primrose had gotten herself such an esteemed job was because her pathetic diploma had looked good on her résumé to a desperate principal. 


	6. 6000 Hertz

_Warning! This **is **Fanfiction, and on no account are any of the following true. We would take no responsibility if repeating it in front of your teacher lands you in detention!_

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**Chapter 5: 6000 Hertz**

Miss Primrose stepped haughtily and somewhat pompously into the third-form classroom, looking around with disgust like a fussy grandmother surveying an unruly teenage niece's room. The students were all looking attentively at her, except Frank. Said annoying boy was hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously on a fifth-form workbook and looking rather serious.

"Good morning, class," the fat, mouldy cheesecake announced. Everyone but Frank scrambled up in a feigned haste to greet the Primrose. The teacher frowned disapprovingly at the rude pupil and marched over.

Frank had just grasped a very complicated concept and was about to write his conclusions down when a disgusting odour collided like a ton of towering bricks on him, stopping his train of thought effectively.

Looking up, the boy came face-to-face with an enormous pot belly. He blinked, distracted, before regaining his senses.

"You just broke my concentration!" he yelled angrily. "You really ought to change that 'perfume' of yours, or was that your breath? What scent was it, anyway? Decomposing pumpkins festered with maggots and a healthy dose of rotten, worm-infested lettuce smeared with garlic? I feel ill! Go away, please. I just might stop enjoying pumpkin juice now."

Primrose swelled with rage, her already-large stomach expanding even more. Frank's triplet brothers watched on in amusement, but Frank's disgusted face soon prompted them to add fuel to the fire.

Fred and Frans began to sniff like security dogs at airport luggage checkpoints at the rapidly inflating Primrose. The teacher hastily beat a quick retreat, glaring at the triplets who feigned a ghastly mixture of innocence and ignorance. Frank went back to his physics work. Fred grinned.

"You know, Mizz Primrose ol' buddy, you'll have the entire class in the sanatorium within an hour if you continue like this. Instead of applying some strong, fancy perfume on yourself, (which you can't pull off anyway,) I recommend that you just stick with the classical talcum power. You can't go wrong with that! You should really take a look at a fashion magazine. It's sold quite cheaply if ordered in bulk…"

Frank and Frans both sniggered. The whole class did, too. She didn't have much chance of going wrong, anyway. This was as bad as it could get. As they say, when down, there's nowhere to go but up! Unfortunately, Primrose did not share that same idea.

"That's it!" she exploded, flinging her flabby arms up in the air. The arms, of course, sagged lower. "I am reporting the three of you to the principal for severe misconduct!"

The teacher sat back and waited, a smug smile on her beetroot-purple face. She obviously expected the triplets to beg for mercy, but they looked neither scared nor apologetic. Primrose was surprised. "Right this instant!" she added hopefully, searching for some adverse reaction. Her words had no effect on the battle-hardened class.

Unfazed by Primrose's bellowing, Fred continued knowledgably without batting an eyelid:

"It is a well-known school rule that all misbehaviour be reported to the Head Boy straight away. There will be no need to tell the principal, since all you teachers obviously think this mundane task of dishing out punishments is beneath you. You _do _know who the Head Boy is, don't you? Good. Once you do, life becomes easier. Just take us to him, and knock on the door. When it opens, ask for a Za-"

"I _know_ what to do!" shrieked Primrose agitatedly. "You don't have to tell _me_!"

Unbeknownst to her, Frans had quietly placed a bottle of some kind on the floor. The bottle had trembled when the Primrose had begun screeching, but was now vibrating madly back and forth like a maniac.

"For now…" Voice rising in pitch, the crow cawed in the most unbelievable fashion, "For now…"

CRACK! Frans's bottle could not withstand the torturous seismic vibrations, and had shattered into tiny pieces at last. Frank looked up from the broken pieces littering the floor, a stopwatch in his hand and a smug grin on his face.

"I knew it! 6000 hertz, exactly! Pay up, you two! I won!" Primrose blinked, astonished, as Fred groaned and handed some money over. Frans did the same.

Frank looked satisfied, and money clinked as it changed hands. "So sorry, Ms Primrose," he said smartly, facing the flabbergasted teacher, "but what were you saying again?"

Ms Primrose was stunned, frozen like a cockroach staring as a foot came down to squash it. It quickly evaporated into pure rage, though.

Marching up to Frank, she roughly yanked him to the front of the class by his collar. Now she could keep an eye on the 'naughty, rude delinquent'. Frank choked with rage (literally). He would be rudely observed and would have to forgo his delicate privacy!

Frans was next - he was not to be spared. The boy was dragged all the way to the back of the class, and dumped unceremoniously onto an available seat. Frans frowned deeply. There was a 'well-padded' classmate sitting in front of him. How bothersome. He could tell that this was not going to be a good year. How was one supposed to study if one couldn't even see the notes, much less copy them?

Fred also received the same treatment. He was brought to the centre of the class, where the dratted fan blew eternally. At once, all his worksheets started flying about because of the strong gusts made by the reckless typhoon creator. The class looked like a tornado had ripped through it in minutes.

Fred was not happy. Neither were Frans and Frank. The triplets were not happy at all. She asked for it! Primrose was going to have a riot on her hands. Prepare the battleships! Invasion 1.0 is now in progress!

* * *

_The bottle is made up by us. It just adds humour to the story, hmm? Now review. Flamers **welcome** (See how desperate we are?)._


	7. SOB and updates

The upcoming chapters will be a lot more sadistic I'm afraid, and we'll be introducing the major school bully, Simon Brunes, S.O.B. for short. He has a personal grudge against Zac because of an embarrassing incident in the first form, but that is insignificant. We've become pretty moody basically and when that happens, our inner sadiscity (who cares if there's such a word?) comes out.

We'll add other stuff in a new story as soon as we have time. They're all written out already, but they're so sadistic (Zac and Frank are the poor victims really, they're our pet characters you see) that we don't know if we should post it (tell us if we should. If so, you'll get about twenty other short stories to read!!!).

And there's ALSO going to be another story that I (Clarinda) would like to publish as a book if possible, though it's going to be a mean feat, which is half written out so obviously we won't post that here. However, if it's really going to be published, please support us and buy it!

Besides these new stories, all short thus not a novel. Clemenceau is taking a not so humorous route, though still as exciting. Like I said, it's really quite sadistic. You'll get it when you read (The Fight), a crazily long story. We'll post them all as closely together as possible because the small stories are all somehow linked together. These stories have about like ten accidents and illnesses in one year, so you know it's not real! HAHA. Ok, also, there are some where Zac has already graduates (ex. Nature Walk). You'll get to read all those when I've posted them. They're all written out already.

Finally, I'm going to post a separate story called characters profiles, which are, basically, the profiles of the six Trotteville siblings. They're not really supposed to be funny because I ran out of ideas so they're obviously lame. (Say so if you want to) but at least you'll get to know them (the characters) better.

What else? There's so much I want to say, but never mind. I'll just post some stuff to keep you busy while we mug for our 'O' levels (MAJOR SINGAPORE EXAM). It's coming real soon. Wish us luck!

We'd also like to thank all faithful readers who have waited for months and months to read one tiny chapter! It makes us feel important. Not that we want to make you wait though…

Thanks again!

Clarinda and Maria

p.s. most of the stories except MOR are incomplete but that's cos none of them will ever be just in case we get more inspiration


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